Prodigy
by FlewandFlied
Summary: One shot (for now). Sherlock was never good at people. Or socialising. Or parties. It's a good thing that Archie is willing to play a game...
1. Chapter 1

A smug looking Mary thrust a bottle of her favourite prosecco in to the arms of her husband, then turned to the consulting detective, who was sitting on the bar stool by the breakfast bar with a look on his face that can only be compared to a five year old that has been refused a new toy.

"Sherlock, get in there and socialise!" she demanded, hands on hips.

"I must remind you that our agreement involved me simply being here. You said nothing about taking part in the 'mingling' as John so quaintly put it." he continued to stare at the wall in front of him, not gracing Mrs. Watson with the honour of his eye contact.

A week earlier, in that very kitchen, Mary and Sherlock had watched John throw away an instruction booklet. Knowing that this spelt trouble, Mary had bet that Sherlock and John would not successful in building the new flat pack coffee table. Obviously Sherlock was confident; if he could build a cardboard pirate ship when he was eight, how hard could slotting a few pieces of wood together be?

It turned out it could be very difficult indeed. Sherlock had got bored and threw a draw handle across the room. John, who had told Mary that 'instructions are for idiots', left the room swearing, nursing a stubbed toe after kicking the solid oak. As a result, Sherlock had been forced to attend the Watson's New Years Eve party.

Pouring the sparkling wine in to delicate champagne flutes, John followed through the hall in to the living room, where he handed one glass to Molly and the other to Greg, who was leaning against the doorframe. The assistant host nodded to some neighbours who has just arrived before escaping back to join his best man.

"You want one?" he asked, nodding towards the freshly poured glass of whiskey on the worktop. The reply came in the form of a shake of the head.

"Well, I suppose I can't hide in here for much longer", he sighed and turned back to the door he had only just returned through "half of this party was meant to be thrown by me anyway." As soon as the door was opened, Sherlock heard a familiar voice:

"Mr Holmes!" A young boy entered, ducking underneath John's arm and heading straight for his mentor in the corner. Unable to reach any other body part, Archie hugged Sherlock's leg affectionately. He received a pat on the head as recognition.

"Hello, Archie" The young boy finally released his limb and was now staring up at him expectantly.

"Isn't it past your bed time?"

"No, It's only 8 o clock"

"What? Really? Oh God, I was hoping I could go home soon. I swear I've been here for hours!". He squeezed the top of his porcelain nose, starting to regret his decline of a drink.

Archie's face dropped. "Don't go home, we can play a game if you like?"

Desperate to avoid hide and seek or _I spy_, Sherlock knew exactly what game he would be playing. It would involve some tutoring first, but Archie was bright, he would pick it up.

"Ever heard of a game called Deductions, Archie?" he grinned.

The unlikely pair found a place in the crowded room, Sherlock perched on the corpse of the coffee table, Archie next to him. The teacher scanned the room for the first target. Someone that Archie didn't know (he wouldn't condone cheating) but as easy enough to start with.

"Her." He said, pointing at a blonde that was across the room from them. There was no need to whisper, as the music and the conversation around them covered their tracks. Sherlock read her in a minute, before prompting his companion.

"What about her?"

"Tell me anything you know, or can deduce about her." Sherlock rolled his eyes. Wanting to get the ball rolling, he hinted at a point of interest.

"Look at what's in her hand."

"Erm, she's drinking wine?"

"Nope. Look again, all night she's been filling up her own drink, even after John offered her a refill. So she wants to control what she drinks. There are a number of possibilities, maybe she is driving home and wants to control how much she drinks, maybe she is trying to hide what she's drinking. I favour the latter, seeing as that drink is far too clear to be white wine. It can't be spirit, she's had 3 glasses and isn't even tipsy yet. So more than likely it's non alcoholic. Then there's the fact that she's wearing a loose fitting dress. The ridiculously tight dress she wore at the Wedding and the amount of cleavage she's got on show tells us she's not exactly shy when it comes to showing off her figure. Plus she's been clutching her stomach every five minutes. Why has she concealed her body shape? Why is she not drinking and hiding it? Answer: she is pregnant but hasn't told her friends yet."

It'd been a while since Sherlock had reeled off a deduction like that. It felt good, showing off. He watched as it sunk in to Archie's brain and the boy caught up.

"That. is. so. cool." he gasped. His admiration for the detective increased every time he spoke.

"You have a go now. Tell me about the man in the green jumper." Archie scanned the room in search of said target. On finding him, he cleared his throat.

"Well, he has checked his phone a lot."

"And what might that imply?" Sherlock prompted. It was easy to see a trait, but interpreting it was the real test.

"He might be waiting for a message from someone."

"Good."

"And he's kept his coat and shoes on so when he does get it, he will be leaving."

Sherlock nodded. He had dreaded the party, but teaching Archie had just made it a whole lot more interesting.

**A/N: Sorry that it doesn't really go anywhere. I (might) continue with this if you guys like it. I just love Archie! .**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I couldn't resist carrying it on! Thank you to ****FaroreWorldshaper and Icecat62 for your reviews! **

**Enjoy...**

Sherlock looked at his phone, quickly realising that 10 minutes had passed since Archie had insisted on a toilet break. People and their _needs._ Bloody waste of time. It was the same with John on cases - 'Sherlock we have to eat something' or 'Sherlock it's 3am I need to sleep' nothing but nag, nag, nag, nag.

Assuming that 10 minutes constituted a long time, Sherlock sprung from his perch and crossed the room in a few strides. He nimbly dodged handbags and people, squeezing past Lestrade, who turned with an open mouth to speak, but Sherlock had already disappeared through down the hall and was climbing up the stairs two at a time.

"Archie?" he shouted, arriving at the door to the bathroom. After no response came he banged on the door with his fist. Patience had never exactly been a Holmes quality.

"Open up, it's me, Sherlock!"

This request seemed to have worked, because the lock clicked. The door swung open, revealing the fact that the guest in the bathroom was not his mentee. Quite the opposite in fact. Black stilettos that could break your ankle (with a scuff on the toe), smudged make up and the bad spray tan told Sherlock everything he needed to know.

"Sorry about that, I was erm... just looking for someone." Sherlock pointed over his shoulder, but before he could even turn on his heel, the woman's orange stained palms grasped his suit jacket.

"You're not going anywhere" she shook her hips, a sinister grin splitting her face. Finding a surprising amount of strength in her uncoordinated limbs, she yanked the innocent intruder in to the white tiled room. Sherlock recoiled at the smell. It was almost nauseating - first the scent of a DNKY perfume that Sherlock immediately recognised hitting the back of his throat, then the vomit and alcohol that it was intended to cover.

"I really have to go..." he said awkwardly, grabbing the wrists of the woman and removing his clothing from her grasp. He wiped where her fingertips would have been, disgusted by the creases they left behind.

"You can't just demand to be let in and then leave." She licked her lips, reaching to undo the zip at the side of her dress.

"Really? That was the plan." Sherlock turned, once again to leave. As he did so, Mary appeared with a towel and glass of water.

She smirked, seeing Sherlock's shocked, blushing cheeks. Knowing her friend, it wasn't hard to deduce what had put this rare look on the detectives face.

"I see you met Kelly!" She said, trying to control the oncoming fits of laughter. The statement was accompanied by a wink from 'Kelly', with which Sherlock retreated. Females could be so odd.

On returning back downstairs, Sherlock turned to the kitchen. He'd had enough interaction for now. This escape route was floored, however, when he found that his camp had been infiltrated.

Molly Hooper stood by the freezer, emptying the last of the ice in to her glass. Behind her sat Archie on the worktop, swinging his feet as the two chatted away. Sherlock gestured for Archie to follow him, hoping to escape unnoticed.

"Oh, hi Sherlock!" Archie called. Damn it. Cover blown. Sherlock was beginning to understand the phrase 'never work with kids or animals'.

"Are you coming, Archie?" he said, forcing himself repress his annoyance.

"In a minute, Miss Molly was just telling me about her job. Now I need to decide whether I want to be a scientist or a detective!"

Molly laughed, pleased that she had seemed interesting enough to be in the same league as Sherlock. Not many eight year olds asked about how the stomach reacts to being hit by a crowbar. Well, no one asked really.

Having prepared her drink and assured Archie she would show him her notes, she returned to the living room, offering Sherlock a nod and a smile. She was barely out of earshot before Archie burst out:

"She likes you."

Sherlock arched his eyebrow. This had been hinted at a few times by various people, and the perfectly wrapped present for his birthday that matched her eyeshadow had suggested this.

"What makes you say that?" he said, conscious of the fact his cheeks radiating a large amount of heat.

"She went red every time I mentioned you, and when I asked if she had a boyfriend she smiled in the same way she does when you're in the room." he smiled, rather pleased with himself, before noticing something else important, "AND YOU LIKE HER TOO! YOU ARE BLUSHING!"

"Archie, your new skills are not for matchmaking purposes!" he replied.

_'I've created a monster'_ Sherlock thought. In an attempt to change the subject, he led Archie towards the room being filled by laughter. Molly was perched on the arm of the sofa, giggling at Mary's colleague's anecdote. Something about a man with a lightbulb stuck in a compromising place. It had to be admitted that she looked beautiful.

Seeing the man's expression, Archie recognised it as one his father used when he came home from work and was greeted by his mum. He may have only been young, but he knew love when he saw it.

He threw all his weight against Sherlock's torso, catching him by surprise and meaning he almost landed head first on Molly. They smiled at each other awkwardly.

Scientist? Detective? They all sounded exciting, but at that moment Archie fancied himself as a matchmaker.

**A/N: Hope you liked it! I am working on a huge multi chapter fic at the moment, so this may end up being neglected. But as always, prompts and reviews are hugely appriciated!**


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